


slip of the mind

by tarantism



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Amnesia, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Memory Loss, Minghao-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarantism/pseuds/tarantism
Summary: in which minghao ensures he's fine, he really is





	slip of the mind

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to chloe, alice, kait and laina, who have all cursed at me through tears but helped a lot with whatever the hell this is. thank you ♡

Minghao could not have been more panicked if he tried. No matter where he looks, he just can’t find it. He’s lost Hansol’s sweater—the pink pullover his mother got him on holiday and he _adores_. He let him borrow it last week and now it’s gone—who knows where? He rakes his fingers through his brunette hair, ripping apart his room trying to find it but, _god_ , it isn’t anywhere and he doesn’t remember at all where he saw it last and… oh god, Hansol is going to be _so_ upset. 

He’s pulling out various boxes and clutter from under his bed when he hears the faint sound of knocking on the door; his heart stops as he stands. No, no, _no_ , he needs more time. He lets out a deep breath as his hand runs over his face, looking around at the mess he had caused by tearing out every drawer and cupboard he has in order to find his friend’s clothing. Minghao presses the pads of his forefinger and thumb into his eyes, hoping the swirling colours he creates will drown out this whole situation.

“Hello? Minghao? Mingyu? Anybody home?”

Hansol knocks again, slightly harder this time and Minghao knows he can’t avoid him forever, so he might as well answer the door. He semi-cleans the mess he has made in his room (in this case meaning he shoves whatever junk is lying on the floor under his bed again) as fast as he can, so it doesn’t look like he’s been wrecking his home just to find a sweater—even though that’s precisely what he’s doing. Deciding it’s somewhat good enough, Minghao shuffles out of his bedroom and grimaces at the state of the open lounge, ignoring it in favour of unlocking the door for his friend. 

He turns the brass handle and without hesitation, Hansol enters the flat and closes the door safely behind him before approaching Minghao with a wide smile. They really need to get him a key, he thinks for a second as Hansol claps him lightly on the back, seeing as the younger boy practically lives here. The thought disappears as quickly as it had manifested and Minghao wishes he could smile back properly, but the smile he gives him is forced and dripping with anxiety at how he is going to tell the boy about his mistake. 

Hansol, who is fairly easy-going by nature with very little worries in the world, falters for a moment when he catches sight of Minghao’s bedroom behind him. He blinks thrice and lets out a small breathy chuckle, turning to the brunette. Minghao realises then that he really hadn’t done a good job of hiding the mess he’d created after all. _Figures_.

“Woah, dude.” He furrows his dark eyebrows, a vast contrast from his dyed hair. “What the hell did you do to your room? Did a cyclone hit it or something?”

“Uh, no. I’m… trying to find something,” Minghao swallows, chewing apprehensively on his bottom lip.

“Must be pretty important for that amount of mess. Sorry to say I won’t be sticking around to help you clear that up, buddy.”

Minghao presses the palms of his hands into his eyes as he squeezes them shut, before mumbling, “Hansol, I have to tell you something.” His heart is pounding hard and fast in his chest, threatening to break free of its skin cell at any moment as silence falls over the pair of them. Then, it all rushes out in a single, hurried breath. “I lost the sweater you leant to me last week and I’ve looked everywhere—I even trespassed into Mingyu’s room to search this place high and low, which is why the living room and my room and everywhere is a mess, but I can’t find it and I’m…” _Deep breath in_. “I’m really, _really_ sorry.”

When no one says anything for a while, Minghao lets his hands fall limply to his side, scrunches up his nose and cracks one eye open just slightly. He expects to see some sort of anger painted on Hansol’s face—though, when he thinks about it he doesn’t think he’s ever seen the boy ever truly mad. Instead, he’s faced with Hansol giving him a strange look, eyebrow raised and hand rubbing at the hair at the back of his head. 

“Are you mad at me?” Minghao’s Korean is shaky as he mutters, but he has to know what Hansol is thinking, seeing as he can’t read the boy’s face. 

“Why on Earth would I be? You mean you don’t remember?” Hansol says, looking slightly concerned now, and Minghao frowns. _Remember what, exactly?_ “Dude, you gave it back to me two days ago. You even washed it with that fancy, flowery detergent and fabric softener stuff that I said smelled really good, and it was folded up all neatly.” 

Minghao frowns even harder, his forehead creasing with multiple lines. “I did?” He doesn’t remember doing that. He doesn’t remember doing that at all.

“Yeah, it’s in my drawer right now at home,” Hansol reiterates, nodding. “It’s not lost. No need to tear your place apart. Though, it may be a bit late to say that.” 

“Oh,” Minghao isn’t sure whether to feel relieved or stupid, or both, especially now that Hansol is chuckling to himself as if this is some kind of joke. The weight on his chest from losing the item of clothing eases, but there’s still a strange heaviness within him that remains. “I guess I forgot. I’ve been so caught up in studying for this upcoming class test.”

Hansol shrugs and pats him on the shoulder with a smile. “That’s okay, it happens. Thanks for getting it back to me. I love that sweater.”

“Yeah.” Minghao nods. “No problem…”

 

 

\---

 

 

The following week, when he walks into his psychology class, the words UNIT EXAM TODAY are yelling out at him from the board in big, looming, capital letters, and his entire body freezes up. No, he thinks, the exam isn’t today. It just _can’t_ be today! 

“Hao?” Mingyu looks at him from his side, a worried frown printed on his face as he wonders why his best friend has frozen in the doorway. He holds onto the strap of his backpack, fist tightening.

“W—Why does it say the exam is today?” Minghao asks, pointing at the board with a shaking hand. He hopes this is a nightmare he’s about to wake up from at any second with the rate his heart is pounding. He could almost cry. 

The taller boy looks from his best friend to the board and back again, clearing his throat as the other students continue filing into the class around them. “The professor told us about it two weeks ago.” 

“What?” How is that possible? He would know if he had a test. He would have recalled… 

“Yeah, uh, last Monday he reminded us to get our heads down and keep studying.” Mingyu looks genuinely concerned as he tries and fails to meet Minghao’s eyes. “Don’t you remember?” 

“N—No, I don’t—I don’t remember,” he chokes out, shaking his head in denial whilst trying to hide his glassy eyes. _Why can’t he remember?_ It’s the end of unit test—it counts for _thirty per cent_ of this year’s final grade, and he hasn’t studied one bit. _Why doesn’t he remember?_

Wincing, Mingyu rubs the back of his neck as he tries to find a solution, but Minghao knows there isn’t one. “Well, uh, maybe you can talk to Mr. Choi? Or get your language tutor to help you out—possibly get you an extension? I don’t know. I’m so sorry, Minghao. I should have reminded you, instead of cooping myself up in my room all week in preparation—“ He cuts himself off and Minghao knows it’s because he’s spotted his quivering lip. “I’m sorry.”

His entire body feels numb to the point where he can’t feel Mingyu run a thumb softly over his cheek. “It’s not your fault, Gyu.” 

And it isn’t. It’s his.

_What is happening?_

 

 

\---

 

 

He runs into Junhui in the halls a few weeks later, and he's smiling wide at him when he falls into step beside Minghao, as if his smile is going to burst from his face. The older boy he met and became friends with through their language tutor looks unusually delighted. He's a fairly positive guy in general, usually donned in a t-shirt and jeans; today, however his dyed dirty blonde hair is styled perfectly into a quiff, and he’s wearing what looks like an expensive jacket and shirt. The sight alerts the brunette that something is up. 

"Hey, Hao." Junhui practically sings as they navigate the corridors of the college, bumping his elbow into his side as they walk together. Minghao just rolls his eyes at the presence of his friend.

"Hi," he replies, slipping into Chinese whilst raising an eyebrow. "What's up with you?"

"Aren't you going to say anything to me?" Junhui continues to smile, blinking at him as the warm June sunshine streams in through the windows and paints his skin a glowing gold. Minghao notices that he's pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and is biting his teeth in what seems like anticipation. He frowns harder, looking around a little.

"What? Uh, should I?"

The blonde's smile falters a little as he gives him a funny look. His words come out in a slight, unsure chuckle. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know, Jun. What do _you_ mean? You're kinda freaking me out."

Then, Junhui stops walking altogether, his smile completely fading from his face. The brunette quickly follows suit, pausing in the middle of the hall as his peers continue to walk past the pair of them. "You don't know?"

With a tilt of his head, Minghao stares at him in confusion, lost as to what Junhui could possibly be referencing. "Know what?" 

"It's my birthday." Junhui says the words slowly and he looks like he's just witnessed a puppy being run over by a car. It's heart-breaking watching the excitement drain from his face. 

Minghao feels like punching himself in the face. "Oh my—Jesus, I'm so sorry, Junhui. It totally slipped my mind. I swear I told myself last week I was gonna get you a present and—I'm really sorry. I just... I forgot." He feels awful, like the worst friend in the world, because what kind of person completely forgets one of their best friends' birthdays? 

Junhui looks at him sadly. "It's okay." 

"No, no it's not. I'm really sorry, I am." He says it again; because there's not much else he can say that will make up for him being a terrible friend. "Happy birthday, Jun, I—I'll make it up to you, I promise."

As he crosses his heart, Junhui smiles, but Minghao sees that it's hollow and disappointed. Of all people, Junhui thought at least he would have remembered.

"Thanks. I'll see you later, okay?" And then he's gone.

Minghao watches his back as the boy walks away and feels a strange hollowness inside his own self.

 

 

\---

 

 

His phone flashes bright, rumbling on the coffee table as if there were an earthquake contained within his living room. Minghao groans and pauses the movie he's watching, sitting forward on his couch to swipe up the device in his hand and glare at the screen.

The picture of Hansol displayed there stares back at him, the younger boy's face pouting in response to his photo being taken until the brunette answers the call and brings the phone up to his ear. 

"Hello?" 

"Minghao? Where are you?" Hansol's voice sounds unusually irritated, alerting Minghao the fact that this isn't just a casual question—something's up. "The ceremony is already halfway through. There's only a five-minute interval and then Mingyu and Jun are up. What the hell, dude?"

"S—Slow down." He stutters, hating the fact that his friend is angry with him, but mostly hating the fact he has no idea what he's going on about. "What do you mean ceremony? It's Friday. Mingyu is ordering a take-out!" 

He can hear Hansol breathing down the phone and the sound of rustling, mumbled voices in the background of wherever he is. "He's not getting—Minghao, they're about to go on. I've gotta go. I... Just, put the flowers we got for Mingyu in a vase of water so they don't wilt, yeah? I've got Jun's. I'll tell them you feel unwell."

Minghao almost drops his phone once Hansol ends the call, clapping his hand over his mouth when he suddenly remembers exactly what the boy had been talking about.

Mingyu and Jun. Their achievement ceremony at the end of the semester. Minghao had promised he would be there to see them collect their awards and speak out to all the attendees; it was a huge deal to be nominated. Instead, he'd somehow found himself sat at home, clutching an empty bowl of popcorn, watching _The Vow_ whilst waiting for Mingyu to bring back his choice of take out; their usual Friday evening routine. Only today the brunette couldn't at all recall what happened at any point in the day up until the time just before Hansol had called. 

He stands shakily, legs struggling to hold him up as he paces slowly towards the flowers that lie abandoned on the kitchen counter top. They’re Mingyu’s favourite. Pink roses. He picked them out especially. His fingers curl weakly around the stems, wrapped up in cellophane. 

They least he can do now is remember to keep them alive long enough for Mingyu to return home.

 

 

\---

 

 

 

He’s reading through his Korean language text book on his bed (was it a homework assignment? He doesn’t know) when he smells something burning. Minghao sits up from where he’s lying and sniffs in disgust, jumping up to walk to the kitchen and see what the cause of the smell is. When he gets to the familiar setting, Mingyu is there, trying his best to quell the fire coming from the pan on the stove with a wet tea towel.

When the flames are no longer lapping at the pan and the smoke disappearing, Mingyu turns around and looks at Minghao; he doesn’t know whether the taller boy is angry or annoyed or both. 

“Why did you leave the stove on?” Mingyu says in a cross tone of voice, and the brunette frowns at the sudden accusation.

“What are you talking about?” Minghao bites back, offended that Mingyu would think he would ever let something like this happen in their apartment. “I didn’t do anything. I wasn’t even cooking!”

Mingyu is staring at him, but in a sudden change he no longer looks angry. It’s like the frustration melts off his face, as if winter has come to an end and the snow has disappeared. “Half-an-hour ago you told me you were cooking mackerel for a snack. You asked if I wanted some.” 

The brunette has never felt more confused, because none of what he’s saying makes any sense; he knows he wasn’t cooking before because he has been studying the whole afternoon and he would remember if he had began preparing fish. “No, I—I wasn’t…”

He observes as Mingyu walks towards him, their eyes locked, unblinking but filled with something Minghao can’t decipher. The brunette’s eyes widen as the taller boy sets a gentle, familiar hand on his shoulder, fingers lightly curling into him. “What’s going on, Minghao?”

With Mingyu directly in front of him, Minghao’s heart drops. He swallows hard—the lump in his throat not shifting—and shakes his head slowly, trying to process exactly what he’s implying. “I don’t know. I… don’t know.”

“Should we, you know, see a doctor or something?” Mingyu rubs at the back of his head—a nervous habit that makes Minghao feel terrible.

Minghao exhales slowly; there’s really nothing else they can do, no other option he can think of then and there. The problem he’s just faced certainly won’t fix itself. He’s glad this is the first time it’s happened. Maybe they’ve caught whatever it is early. “Okay.”

 

 

\---

 

 

The room is bright and the doctor is kind but talks to him for a very long time, asking complicated questions he has a difficult time answering—both because of the language barrier and the difficult words medics always use when describing certain conditions. But, to calm him down, she suggests he talks about something he loves, something he uses for support in hard times. Minghao talks about Mingyu; when he doesn’t know what to say, she asks more about him. Minghao has a hard time explaining their relationship. He says Mingyu is special to him. The doctor gives him a hint of a smile.

She walks him out into the waiting room after about forty minutes of questioning, and there are Mingyu, Hansol and Junhui, all patiently sat waiting together. Mingyu stands up as soon as he spots Minghao and starts to make his way over as fast as he can without breaking into a full on sprint, weaving past the other people waiting to be seen.

“Minghao? Why don’t you go over there and sit with your other friends?” The doctor says softly to him. Her eyes are kind and warm; Minghao likes that about her. “We’ll only be a few minutes.”

Minghao nods, and when he meets Mingyu’s eyes as they pass one another, the black-haired boy’s expression is unreadable. He wishes he could reach out to him, even brush his fingertips gently against his arm as they pass, but he doesn’t and instead he goes to sit beside Junhui who drapes his arm around his shoulder. A gentle squeeze gives him a little reassurance as well as Hansol smiling at him next to the older boy.

His eyes begin darting between Mingyu and the doctor, then, as the pair of them seem like they’re having a very serious conversation—none of which Minghao can hear. Suddenly that little reassurance he had vanishes into thin air.

Everyone starts acting differently around him after that, and he doesn’t know why. 

Hansol is gentle with him, tries to help him with simple things like remembering dates and schedules, or asking whether he’s sure he is up to going out to a movie with them. Minghao appreciates everything and puts on a smile, despite feeling like he’s being restrained (by Hansol or himself, he isn’t quite so sure anymore). 

Junhui, on the other hand, acts like nothing has changed; it’s nice until Minghao spots that he’s putting so much effort into ignoring what’s happening that it’s making things uncomfortable between them. Even sitting next to each other in their weekly language lessons seems unnatural and strained after a while.

And Mingyu. Well, Mingyu is a combination of the both of them; he does what he can do to help, but puts trust in Minghao to do his own thing now and then. When the brunette meditates like the doctor suggested, he gets angry and frustrated and yells, punching his pillow and throwing things against the wall, angry tear tracks staining his face. Mingyu drops everything and runs to him in those moments, pulls him into an engulfing hug and whispers softly to him until he’s too tired to be angry anymore. 

Sometimes, Mingyu kisses him, when he’s too upset to speak and just cries. It’s soft and oh so loving— _too_ loving for _just_ friends, but gives him the sense of reassurance he is longing for every moment of every day. He’s usually exhausted when their lips meet, and Minghao will eventually fall asleep with Mingyu’s arms wrapped securely around him.

(Every morning he wakes up next to Mingyu; he wonders what happened and how exactly he got there. Though, the feelings never leave him, never change.)

 

 

\---

 

 

Minghao finds himself in the administration’s office of his college one day, head hung low, falling into his palms. It had been self-defence, he assures the men and women that had surrounded him not five-minutes prior before dispersing to interview the man they had named as Choi Seungcheol: the man who had called out and grabbed him. It had been _self-defence_.

It had all happened in the blink of an eye, reflexes fast as Minghao had ducked out of his vice-like grasp and proceeded to pull his arms behind his back, pushing him to the ground. His heart was pounding, and the shrieks of a few female students around him chilled him to the bone. But he’d done the right thing. This stranger had lunged for him in Mingyu’s psychology class! He’d protected himself, right?

Only, when Minghao had glanced up at Mingyu, breathing hard, he noticed the shock in the boy’s eyes. He watched him shake his head slowly, moving out of where he sat on the incline of lecture seats. The boy started to move towards him, but was hesitant in his steps, and Minghao didn’t know why. Did he… Did Mingyu not see the strange man? 

“What’s the commotion about—?” Another voice appeared behind him in the doorway to the classroom, a female teacher he didn’t know, wearing a face of shock and concern at the sight before her. “Professor Choi? Seungcheol? Oh, goodness! What happened here? What did you _do?_ ” 

Minghao had found himself in his current situation shortly after, watching through pleated glass as the principal spoke with Mr. Choi, a few teachers who appeared at the scene and a select few students—including Mingyu. He wished he knew what they were saying, what was going on.

He didn’t have a psychology teacher named Professor Choi—he didn’t even take psychology! He’d only been there to give Mingyu his lunch…

 

 

\---

 

 

He’s making kimchi-fried rice for breakfast, because it’s Mingyu’s favourite, when someone unlocks the door and steps inside. Minghao frowns when he sees a light-haired stranger waltz in, like he knows them, like he’s welcome here… He even has a key? 

“I smell something good,” the guy proclaims, dropping his backpack onto the floor next to the kitchen counter with a gummy smile.

“Uh, yeah,” Minghao says, and busies himself stirring the food in the pan so it doesn’t burn, because Mingyu would hate that.

“Make a portion for me, okay? I skipped breakfast.” The boy says.

“Um… sure.” The brunette just keeps stirring the dish, wondering why this random person is in their flat, and how he even got in with his own key. Mingyu was the only other one with a key aside from him, and he doesn’t know why he’d make an extra one to give to a stranger.

“Can you put some waffles in the toaster, too? The American-style ones I like.”

“We don’t actually have any of those,” Minghao replied slowly. “And who are you anyway? You must be one of Gyu’s friends?”

As Minghao turns to look at the boy to his left who is sitting on the counter, swinging his legs, the boy looks like he’s been kicked in the stomach— _hard_. His entire face crumbles. “Y—You’re joking, Right, Minghao?” 

The brunette tilts his head, because why does he look so scared? So hurt?

Just then, Mingyu shuffles into the kitchen, still in his pyjamas, looking half-asleep with his messy bed hair. He’s never been an early-riser. “Morning, Hao. Oh! How lovely—Hansol’s here too.” He addresses the stranger with a drowsy, toothy smile. “Something smells good.” 

“Gyu, you know this guy?” Minghao asks as he gives the dish a stir again, glad it smells so good. When he looks back up from the almost-finished food, both Mingyu and the other boy—Hansol, apparently—are staring at him, shaken.

Now, even more confused, Minghao says defensively, “What? Why are you staring at me like that?”

All he’s doing is cooking.

 

 

\---

 

 

He’s at the nearest hospital, but he doesn’t know why. The doctor asks him a lot of questions and he tries to answer them the best he can. He makes a lot of notes on a clipboard, and frowns a lot, the typing from the clerk rattling around in his head, and all of it makes Minghao more nervous. He just wants to go back home to Mingyu.

The doctor and clerk exchange a few words about past examinations and they leave after mentioning something to him about results, and that’s when Mingyu comes in and god, Minghao has never been more thankful to see him.

“Hey,” Mingyu says gently, looking as if he’s almost scared to touch him, as if he’ll break. “How are you doing?”

Minghao smiles weakly, looking down at the cannula in his arm. “Okay, I suppose… Actually, Gyu, that’s a lie. A complete and utter lie—I’m scared. I—I don’t know what’s going on.” He makes eye contact with Mingyu once again. “Why am I here?” 

The older boy inhales deeply, exhaling through his nose after a count of eight. It looks like he needs to sit down, but he remains standing. “I’m just worried about you, Minghao. You’ve been… There are doctors here, they can help—better than I can.” 

“But there’s nothing wrong with me,” he insists. 

Mingyu’s smile is sad like—who was that in their university that one time? He had been so happy and then so sad… It was a guy, Minghao knows that much, and he was upset about something forgotten, or maybe missing, but he doesn’t quite remember. All Minghao knows is that he doesn’t like that smile on Mingyu—if you can even call it that. He misses his grin, all toothy and wide. 

The doctor comes back then with a stack of photos from x-rays he’d had as soon as he’d arrived, and other notes he can’t see this far away from the desk. He comes back saying a lot of stuff that doesn’t make sense to Minghao, the words getting jumbled and fuzzy and lost in translation and they just don’t make sense in his mind at all, but he hears them, of course. He just… doesn’t understand.

“I—I’m sorry,” he interrupts the doctor with an apologetic mumble, near what he feels is the end of his monologue, causing both the doctor and Mingyu to stare at him. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.” 

The doctor pauses and nods very slowly, making a note on his clipboard. Minghao looks worriedly to Mingyu, and his eyes are sad now, too, to match his earlier smile.

He thinks he can even maybe see tears.

 

 

\---

 

 

He’s told that he’ll be staying at the hospital for a while whilst they run some more tests; Minghao thinks that it’s all completely ridiculous because there’s absolutely nothing wrong with him. He just wants to go home! 

Mingyu comes by with some of his things, some clothes and his favourite books, even some snacks he’s managed to sneak in. He also has a bouquet of flowers with him, which he sets aside on the table next to the brunette’s bed. They’re pink roses and Minghao thinks they’re lovely.

“I have some of your favourite movies, just like I promised.” Mingyu says after a few conversations about nothing in particular, holding up several cases in his hand, which all appear from the box he’d brought in.

Minghao beams, so happy that Mingyu remembers, because he isn’t even sure if he remembers himself. He looks from Mingyu to the television on the wall, and back again. “Will you stay and watch one with me?”

The taller boy’s expression changes quickly, placing the box and the DVDs down on the end of his bed. “I’m sorry, Hao, I can’t. I have to go back to class in a little while. I had a free period so I thought I’d drop by to come and see you beforehand.”

Cocking his head to the side in curiosity, Minghao’s hair falls over his face a little. He didn’t realise Mingyu went to university—it made sense, given his age, but he never knew. “Oh, where do you study?” 

Smiling patiently, Mingyu replies, “University of Seoul. It’s not too far from here.” 

“I think I know it.” 

“You used to, um…” The dark-haired boy nods slowly, “You used to go there, actually.”

“I did?” He never knew that. Had no recollection of it at all. “Why am I not there anymore? Did I get kicked out?”

Now, Mingyu isn’t meeting his eyes, lightly shaking his head as he stares at the flowers he brought with him. Minghao can feel the sadness radiating from his body. “You’re not well enough to go back.”

“What are you talking about?” The brunette laughs lightly. “I feel completely fine.”

Mingyu wrings his hands together nervously, like he doesn’t want to explain things to him, but Minghao wants to know why he’s here—why he can't go and be with Mingyu, just the two of them, together? 

“Why can’t I stay with you? Why can’t I go home?” He asks quietly, finally wording his thoughts. 

The boy shakes his head for the nth time that afternoon. “I can’t… they’ll take care of you, Minghao. Trust me.” He looks over at the clock hanging on the wall. “I have to go. I’m supposed be in class soon. I’m sorry.” Minghao sees him look back at him as he starts for the door, this time their eyes meeting. “I’ll come visit you as soon as I can, I promise.” 

Minghao feels something in his chest flutter at the vow and he nods, blush creeping across his cheeks like an icing sugar dusting on top of a cake. His tongue works before his mind can catch up, and he knows his heart is taking the wheel this time before it’s too late. “W—Will you kiss me?” 

Mingyu stops and turns fully towards him, hand falling from where it had hesitated on the door. He smiles, and this time it’s genuine and radiating joy. The toothy grin before him makes him flush harder, cheeks aflame and Minghao can’t believe he had the courage to ask that. 

“I just—I like you so much, Mingyu, and I wondered if you would kiss me? I want to know what kissing you is like. If you, uh, _want_ to. I’d like it if you would.” He whispers, words delicate on his tongue. 

The brunette sees Mingyu’s lower lip tremble around his smile, crinkles appearing by the side of his eyes before he takes his face so softly and adoringly in his hands and leans in.

 

 

\---

 

 

He doesn’t get any visitors for a while, which he finds kind of odd considering he has friends that promise they’ll see him all the time—well, he can’t _exactly_ remember which friends, but he knows he has them and wonders why they aren’t keeping their promises to come and see him. He can’t think of a reason why they wouldn’t; he hasn’t done anything wrong. 

Mingyu comes every two weeks or so (at least, that’s what Minghao thinks, but then again he never has been very good with time), and he walks into the room with another bouquet of flowers, his face adorned with a kind smile. Minghao smiles back, more than happy to see him after so long of feeling alone with only the doctors, nurses and four walls to talk to. He wishes that the boy had come to visit sooner, but he figures he’s busy with, well, whatever it is he does (Minghao can’t remember, but he knows Mingyu’s good at it and likes it a lot). 

“How are you feeling today?” He asks as he takes the old flowers into his hands so he can replace them with the new ones, before sitting down next to Minghao on the bed. His fingertips lightly brush Minghao’s, tingles racing through his hands.

“I’m okay,” Minghao says and smiles at the older of the two. “But seeing you has made me feel even better. It’s a nice surprise. I really missed you.” 

Mingyu swallows and smiles back, grabbing his hand this time. “Me too, Hao.”

“I like that name: Hao. You should call me that more often.” Minghao chuckles a little, a warm feeling rising inside his chest as his heart begins pounding faster; a smile spreads on his lips like a growing flame licking at the walls. Mingyu bows his head only for a second and nods in confirmation, eye twitching only slightly. 

They talk about everything: what Mingyu has been up to(studying so he’s able to graduate soon, mostly), how he has a new flatmate named Hansol (who Minghao thinks sounds lovely and the black-haired boy assures him they’d get on swimmingly), what’s happening in Minghao’s favourite shows on TV (namely ‘So You Think You Can Dance?’ which Minghao tells Mingyu he wants to do when he gets out. He loves dancing), the new movies that have come out (there are so many superhero films, Minghao finds it hard to take them all in). Mingyu clutches his hand tighter, large fingers sliding between Minghao’s thinner ones, telling him that maybe they can go to see one of them soon, together, when he’s feeling better. The brunette doesn’t push and tell him he’s fine—he doesn’t like Mingyu’s response whenever he persists, and besides, he likes the feeling of their fingers slotted together too much to risk the loss of contact. 

Once it’s time for him to go, Mingyu engulfs Minghao in a hug and holds him tightly for a long time. He nuzzles himself into the larger boy’s neck and tells himself that he won’t forget how Mingyu smells (like an expensive cologne and tooth paste) and feels (warm, soft, _safe_ ) because it might be a while before he’s able to come back. He wishes he could hold him longer, forever. Despite what the doctors think, he feels like he can do anything when Mingyu is with him. 

Mingyu’s already at the doorway once he turns around to face Minghao a final time. “Promise you won’t forget about me?” He says softly, voice playful with a slight lilt—but his eyes are sad and scared. Minghao can’t understand why. 

“Of course I won’t.” Minghao says. It’s a ridiculous notion; how could he ever forget Mingyu?

 

 

\---

 

 

He thinks it might be sometime in the afternoon, and he doesn’t know what day of the week it is when one of the nurses enters his room and tells him that he has a visitor. A _visitor?_ He frowns; putting down his book where he sits by the window, balloon to his side. He never gets visitors; no one has come and seen him in ages. He thinks it might be his parents because he hasn’t seen them in a while, since—well, he doesn’t remember the last time he saw them, but he knows it’s been a long time, and they’re a long way away. But it’s a special day, so he hopes. 

The nurse retreats with a kind smile and instead, a boy walks in not a minute later. Minghao doesn’t recognise him; he is extremely tall and has black hair parted in the middle of his forehead under what he presumes is a graduation cap. Looking down at the robe the boy is wearing, he notices there is also a small bouquet of pink roses in his hands as well as a card. For some reason, Minghao feels like he may have seen him before, maybe in passing in high school a few years ago or serving him at a shop in the mall when he’s allowed out, but he’s not entirely sure. He can’t imagine why he would be here visiting him. It’s just out of reach in his mind; it’s annoying, like an itch he can’t quite scratch, this answer is right in front of him but he can’t seem to grasp hold of it. He can’t remember.

The boy smiles a toothy grin, endearing canines poking out and Minghao thinks he’s extremely handsome as he removes his cap, ruffling his hair.

“Hey,” he says softly, placing the flowers and card beside the others on his bedside table that were given to him by somebody else, before slowly walking over to Minghao. “Happy birthday.” 

“Hello,” the brunette replies politely, playing with the fingers on his lap, shuffling on his chair. “Thank you?” How he knows it’s his birthday, he doesn’t know. It doesn’t really feel like a birthday cooped up in a room with strangers visiting him. 

The boy continues to step closer to him by the window. “It’s me.” His smile falters, lip quivering. Minghao notices that his hands are shaking at his sides. “It’s Mingyu.” 

Minghao brings his gaze up to meet the boy’s again, noticing just how beautiful his eyes are now that he’s close enough to properly see. He even notices a small mole on his nose before he smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are.” 

He doesn’t understand when the boy falters in his steps, having to clutch onto the bed to stay upright. He doesn’t understand when the boy lets out a choked, almost-strangled noise. He certainly doesn’t understand when the boy’s eyes fill with tears and spill endlessly down his tanned cheeks and onto the floor of his room.

**Author's Note:**

> i posted/deleted a version of this a while ago and decided to rewrite it. don't ask me why. obviously i love happy endings
> 
> ♡ [@magzineho](http://twitter.com/magzineho)


End file.
